


pray that something picks me up

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Safeword Use, Sex Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: Clint and Bucky learn their limits.





	pray that something picks me up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tintedglasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedglasses/gifts).

> winterhawk bingo square: spanking
> 
> some warnings:  
clint uses his safeword in this fic after being inadvertently triggered during sex. bucky respects this and tries to take care of him.  
there is a presumed/implied reference to past child abuse. it is not directly stated or confirmed, and it is certainly not explicitly detailed.
> 
> if you'd just like to read about ~850 words of them messing around on the couch and skip the heavier stuff, bail out when clint says 'wheelbarrow.'
> 
> please feel free to ask me questions before reading if you would like more information.

Bucky lets his head drop back to rest on the couch, groaning as Clint continues sucking a bruise into the side of his neck, just below his jaw. He tilts his head to the side, panting softly as Clint’s mouth works him over. His blood feels like it’s singing in his veins, just below the surface of his skin. He heals fast, and the bruise won’t last too long, but for now, he feels tender and exposed, and he relishes it.

“Feels nice,” Bucky murmurs, exhaling shakily as Clint nips at his Adam’s apple. He likes that Clint isn’t gentle with him. He likes feeling chewed up and used. It’s taken him a long, long time to find someone who sparked any kind of desire in him at all, and it’s fucking thrilling how _physical_ they can be with each other.

“You taste good,” Clint whispers into Bucky’s neck, dragging his teeth lazily down the slope of his throat, and Bucky shivers at the blunt pressure over his thin, sensitive skin. One of Clint’s hands trails up Bucky’s thigh and into his lap, giving his dick a gentle squeeze, and Bucky groans at the contact. It’s not enough.

“Clint,” Bucky says raggedly, petting at his hair.

“Hmm?” Clint scrapes his teeth along Bucky’s collarbone as he continues to palm his cock. “What’s wrong, babe? Am I blocking the TV?”

“What?” Bucky asks dazedly. He glances at the TV, which is showing Dog Cops on mute. He’d forgotten they’d even turned it on. He gasps as Clint drags a clever finger along his dick, tracing the shape of him through his sweatpants. “I’m not watching the TV. Jesus, Clint.”

“Really?” Clint asks. “After I went through all the trouble to get the collectors edition Blu-ray for us to enjoy together?” He sucks on the knob at the end of Bucky’s clavicle, and Bucky moans at the feel of him. “That’s rude, Bucky.”

“It’s not rude,” Bucky says breathlessly, running his hands over Clint’s shoulders. His muscles are so fucking solid and prominent through his thin t-shirt, and Bucky’s never going to get tired of how strong he is, he’s _never_ going to stop being turned on by the feel of Clint’s body. “Maybe I just want to kiss my boyfriend instead of watching some dumb dog show.”

“Hey,” Clint says, pulling back with a frown. “Hey, it’s not dumb.”

“Okay fine, it’s not dumb,” Bucky murmurs.

He ducks his head for a kiss, but Clint turns away slightly, neatly evading him, and...is he actually upset? This thing between them is still new, and Bucky’s still learning where the lines are. Maybe talking shit about Dog Cops is one of them.

“Sorry,” Bucky says awkwardly. His hands are still fisted in the back of Clint’s t-shirt, and he lets go, smoothing the wrinkled fabric with hesitant hands. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Clint gives him another mournful look, but the corner of his mouth begins to twitch.

“I’m very upset,” Clint insists as a smile breaks out across his face.

Bucky growls and lunges for him, knocking him sideways on the couch and climbing on top of him, caging Clint’s body against the back of the couch. He ducks his head again, and this time, Clint cranes his neck to meet him. Bucky bites at Clint’s lips, then soothes them with his tongue. Jesus, he thought Clint was _mad_.

“You’re so full of shit, Barton,” Bucky whispers into his mouth.

“I was joking,” Clint insists weakly, laughing against Bucky’s lips. “I was just fucking with you. Of course I’d rather kiss you than watch Dog Cops. Even though it’s _not_ dumb.”

“It’s not dumb,” Bucky agrees, kissing along Clint’s jaw. He can feel Clint’s dick, hard against his thigh, and he grinds down into him, swallowing down Clint’s moan. “Were you trying to rile me up, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” Clint says breathlessly, pushing his hips up, working himself shamelessly against Bucky’s thigh. “Did it work?”

“Christ, you’re a menace,” Bucky mumbles against Clint’s lips.

He shifts his weight, repositions himself so he can bring his left hand up to cup Clint’s face. Clint moans when he feels the cool metal against his flushed skin. Clint is _so easy_ for Bucky’s arm, and Bucky doesn’t understand the appeal, but he loves how quickly he can get Clint worked up. He captures Clint’s jaw in his grip, and he feels Clint’s dick twitch against his thigh.

“You like that?” Bucky asks, stroking his thumb along Clint’s jawbone. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Maybe,” Clint pants, and his breath is warm and frantic against Bucky’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Bucky settles more heavily onto Clint, feels his ribcage expanding and fluttering, pushing up against Bucky’s chest as he sucks in air. “Were you misbehaving on purpose, sweetheart? Looking for a punishment?” Clint doesn’t say anything, just swallows hard and blinks, meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Is that it? What, do you want me to hold you down?” He nuzzles the side of Clint’s neck, muttering, “Need me to put you over my knee and spank you until you learn how to behave?”

It happens all at once, the way Clint freezes up under him, his breath caught in his chest. Bucky senses the change in him instantly and draws back slightly to see Clint’s face. His eyes are blank, darting around but looking at nothing in particular, and he’s breathing heavier now, jaw slack, and--

“Wheelbarrow,” Clint says softly, his voice breaking slightly, and--

He’s never said that before, and for one moment, Bucky is too stunned to react, because this has never happened to them, and he doesn’t understand what’s going on, but Clint--

“No,” Clint whispers, and he shakes his head, but he’s still not looking at Bucky. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t-- It’s fine, you don’t have to….” His tongue darts out, swipes absently over his lower lip.

“Clint?” Bucky asks cautiously. He pushes himself up to his forearms, giving Clint room to breathe.

“Fuck,” Clint says, shutting his eyes and starting to shake his head. “Fuck, fuck, shit. Wheelbarrow. I’m sorry. Wheelbarrow. Shit.”

Bucky scrambles now, climbing off of Clint immediately, awkwardly standing over him. He’s hovering, he doesn’t know what to _do_, he doesn’t know why this is happening. Clint used his word, so Bucky has to stop, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do instead. He doesn’t know what Clint needs him to do.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks nervously, rubbing his sweaty right palm against his thigh. “I’m sorry. Fuck.” He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to touch Clint or not. This has never happened before.

“I’m sorry,” Clint says, in between shaky breaths. He’s still curled up against the back of the couch, and he looks so small and breakable, even though Bucky knows he is absolutely neither of those things. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Bucky says, and he decides to perch on the arm of the couch so he can at least be closer to Clint without touching him. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. Are you okay? What should I do?”

Clint’s eyes are squeezed shut now, and he’s still shaking his head back and forth, muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath, and Bucky is about ready to shake out of his skin because Clint is not okay and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky says quietly, and he makes the decision to slowly place his hand on Clint’s shoulder, because not helping is breaking his heart. Clint flinches slightly at the contact, then immediately grabs Bucky’s wrist with both hands, cradling Bucky’s forearm against his face.

Bucky slumps down to the floor again, kneeling next to Clint. He reaches out with his other hand and gently strokes Clint’s knee, trying to keep his touch light but soothing. Clint blinks his eyes open, and he doesn’t say anything, but he fixes his gaze on Bucky and deliberately tries to breathe in through his nose.

“You’re okay,” Bucky whispers. He doesn’t know if that’s true or not, though he’s leaning towards not, but this is all he knows how to do. “I’ve got you, Clint. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“Sorry,” Clint says, coughing wetly, blinking away a few tears. “I’m being so fucking dramatic, and I ruined everything. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Sweetheart, no,” Bucky says, squeezing Clint’s knee. “You needed to stop, so we stopped. That’s what the word is for. You did what you were supposed to do.”

“Okay,” Clint says, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I can…. If you give me, like, just a few more minutes, maybe we can try again. I’m sorry. Give me five minutes, and I’ll get you off.”

“I don’t want to get off,” Bucky says, and that’s certainly true; he’s never felt less turned on in his entire life than sitting here watching his boyfriend panic and cry. “I just want to be here with you until you’re okay. Let me take care of you.”

Clint nods, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Can you just...hold me for a little bit?” he asks in a very small voice that Bucky has never heard before.

“Fuck, of course,” Bucky says. He sits next to Clint on the couch, and Clint just melts into him, his warm, wet face pressed to Bucky’s neck. Bucky wraps his arms around Clint loosely, feeling his bulk and his softness, the impressive space that he takes up and the fragility of his bent posture. Clint can break down into as many pieces as he needs to, for as long as it takes, and Bucky will sit here quietly and hold him together.

“Sorry,” Clint says after a long time. “I ruined it. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t,” Bucky says gently. “I fucked up. I don’t know what happened, but I fucked up and I hurt you somehow, and I’m sorry, Clint. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Clint says. He shifts slightly, leaning his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “You didn’t know. I should’ve said something before. I don’t know why I didn’t. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No,” Bucky says harshly, immediately regretting his tone. “No,” he says more softly. “It’s okay. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready. You don’t have to tell me everything, I swear it’s okay if you don’t, but you have to tell me enough so this never happens again. I have to know what I did wrong.”

Bucky can’t bear the thought of ever causing Clint this much pain again. His good, sweet Clint, who stays up with him when he has nightmares, who sits with him in silence when he’s too overwhelmed to put his thoughts into words, who loves and supports him even when Bucky can’t imagine what he’s getting out of it. Clint gives him everything, and Bucky gave him...this. It’s fucking unacceptable. It can’t happen again. 

Bucky’s right hand is cupping Clint’s biceps, and he’s idly stroking his thumb over the swell of the muscle when Clint says, hesitantly, “I don’t like…hitting. And punishment. I don’t…I can’t, Bucky. Jesus, I’m being such a fucking baby about this.”

Bucky’s heart drops as he remembers the easy, teasing way he’d talked about spanking Clint. They’ve never discussed that before. He knows Clint likes being pushed around a little, likes being tied up, held down, denied, overstimulated. Clint likes to test his own limits, so Bucky had assumed something. But he didn’t _know_. They’d never talked about it, and Bucky ventured somewhere he had no fucking business being.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispers. “I’ll never say that again. I’d never want to...hit you. Christ. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t really want to get into it, if it’s all the same to you,” Clint mumbles. “Just wanted you to know.”

And Bucky has a feeling he doesn’t want to get into the details too much, either. He will someday, if Clint wants to talk about it. But Bucky’s seen enough of Clint’s body to have some suspicions, and the bile rises up in the back of his throat at the thought of anyone _hurting--_

“It’s okay,” Bucky says hoarsely. “You don’t need to tell me anything else. Thank you for letting me know. I’m so fucking sorry if I scared you.”

“I trust you,” Clint whispers, “and that’s not easy for me. It’s not, Bucky. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me. I just have a lot of landmines in my head, and you’re not gonna know where they are unless I tell you.”

“I’ll ask first,” Bucky says. “From now on, we talk about it first. All of it. Everything. No surprises. I love you,” he says, quietly, and the words are still so new in his mouth, everything about them is so new.

“I love you, too,” Clint breathes. “I’m sorry if I fucked this up. Did I ruin this? Do you still want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you,” Bucky says, his voice trembling with emotion. “Fuck, Clint. You’re the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me, and a _lot_ of fucking things have happened to me.”

“You’re my best thing, too,” Clint says, and he fits his palm to the center of Bucky’s chest, right over his heart. “Please be patient with me. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be with someone. How to trust someone. But I’m trying.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says, placing his hand over Clint’s, holding him in place. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Clint sighs, and then he smiles a little bit. His eyes still look exhausted and puffy, but he smiles with his mouth.

“I know it’s early,” Clint says, “but would it be okay if we went to bed?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“You’ll come with me?” Clint asks, and Bucky nods.

“We’ll go together.”

Clint normally just sleeps in his boxers, but when they reach his bedroom, he heads right for the bed, still wearing his sweatpants and hoodie. Bucky doesn’t ask, and he doesn’t take off any of his clothing either, just following Clint’s lead. They each settle themselves on their usual sides of the bed, fluffing up their pillows and redistributing blankets to make sure they each have enough. Clint reaches out an arm towards the lamp, but then he hesitates.

“Would it be okay if we slept with the light on?” Clint asks.

“Of course,” Bucky says.

When they first got together, Clint wanted the light on all the time. He hadn’t gone into too many specifics, just saying he needed to be able to see who he was waking up next to. But over time, he started turning the lights out. He got used to Bucky being there. But it’s okay if he needs to see again tonight. It’s fine. Bucky will give him anything he needs.

“Thanks,” Clint says softly. “Fuck, I love you so much it scares me.”

“Don’t be scared,” Bucky whispers, even though it scares him, too.

Clint smiles at him again, still weary but more genuine this time. He strokes his fingertips over Bucky’s cheek, then ducks his head, touches his lips lightly to Bucky’s. He kisses him a few times, brief and chaste, but the warmth of his mouth is so gentle and lovely that Bucky feels like he could cry from it.

“I’m gonna take my ears out,” Clint says when he pulls back. But he pauses for a moment, giving Bucky time to say his last words of the night.

“I love you,” Bucky murmurs. They’ve only been saying it for a few weeks now, but Clint says it’s his favorite thing to hear before he falls asleep, and Bucky is careful to give him that, as much as he can.

Clint nods, and he looks lighter, even if only a little. He fidgets with his aids, slipping them out and placing them carefully on the bedside table. He stretches his shoulders, and Bucky quietly watches the lines of his powerful arms, cutting through the air, efficient and strong and precise. And then he watches as Clint softens, slumping into Bucky’s body, pressing a wet kiss to his neck before settling down into his embrace. His cheek is pressed to Bucky’s chest, and he can’t hear Bucky’s heartbeat, but Bucky knows he can feel it.

It’s barely any time at all before Clint’s breath evens out and he falls asleep. He’s a warm, comfortable weight on top of Bucky, and it would be so easy for him to drift off, too.

But not yet. He going to stay up and watch over Clint for just a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/187178668839/title-pray-that-something-picks-me-up-link-ao3)


End file.
